


break me down | build me up

by firedup



Series: turn up the music for me baby [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: BDSM, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, M/M, Pining, Porn with Feelings, Pre-Recall, Secret Relationship, Sexual Content, Spanking, bodyguard trope, kink as coping, mentions of drug abuse, non-graphic anxiety attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 16:41:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20029006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firedup/pseuds/firedup
Summary: The overload means he‘s raw afterward. Open, vulnerable, and so charged with restless energy he cannot handle it.





	break me down | build me up

**Author's Note:**

> Remember when I wrote a Hancio scene for my McHan fic? 
> 
> .... yeah. 
> 
> This was kinda inevitable.

Lúcio is moaning softly, breathy little sighs ghosting across half-opened lips in the silence of a hotel suite. Moaning already, when Hanzo has barely even started.

He steps back to admire the sight that presents itself to his eyes, that of his charge hanging half-suspended with both hands tied over his head, gripping the silk rope tightly. His body one taut line, strain evident in every muscle, arousal just as evident in his erection, glistening under a transparent condom, a nod to practicalities. A blush of red color over his ass cheeks, left behind by Hanzo‘s flat palms.

He‘s beautiful.

\- No, that‘s not quite right. He always is beautiful; like this, he is a work of art.

And just as fragile.

It‘s the only time he can allow himself to be fragile.

.

_Not often does Hanzo Shimada perform bodyguard duties for famous rebel DJ s. _

_But, as the saying goes, there‘s a first time for everything. _

_It is the perfect cover job for his recent contract, after all, and so, armed with a cover identity that will help explain away the tattoo and a new look to help blend in better, he takes it, determined to suffer through the, for want of a better word, music, for the time he estimates he will need for his work. _

_The first meeting with his new boss does not go quite as he expected it would. For one, as far as Hanzo knows it is not common practice for musicians to flit around backstage helping shift equipment. _

_Somehow, he spots Hanzo and the manager showing him around even through the bustle and makes his way over as soon as the large speaker he was helping to carry is in its place. _

„_Hi there, I‘m Lúcio!“_

_Hanzo blinks at the hand held out to him. _

„_I know.“_

„_Right, yeah.“ Lúcio clears his throat. „Say, could you help us out here, we‘re a bit shorthanded… thanks man!“ And off he is again. _

_One deep breath later, Hanzo resolves not to be surprised by anything that might get jumped at him here. _

_It proves to be a good resolution. _

_._

One step takes him within reach of Lúcio again. He runs a hand down his back, along his flank, lets it rest there, curling his fingers around his hip.

„You like that?“

Lúcio presses back into his grip, arching his back as far as he can while balancing on the balls of his feet. A quick grin flashes across his face, equal parts exuberant and sultry, designed to push all Hanzo‘s buttons and make his blood run faster.

„Can‘t you tell?“

Hanzo slaps him for it. A hand to the side of his rump, hard enough to make him cry out and jerk in the ropes and rattle the chain suspended from the ceiling. It used to hold a hanging chair until very recently. Until the sight gave Lúcio ideas.

„Try again.“

Harsh, panting breaths hiss through Lúcio‘s teeth as he rides out the stinging pain, eyes clenched shut and moisture clinging to his lashes. Hanzo can see his cock twitch, begging to have fingers wrapped around it, but it‘s not yet the time.

When he opens his mouth next, the first thing that comes out is a groan. Words form reluctantly, tumble from his lips without grace, „Love it…. more, please…. I need…..“

Hanzo slides a hand up to caress his neck, grips a handful of his dreadlocks, still damp from an earlier shower, and tugs softly on them. A contented hum is his answer.

_Then_, he proceeds to give Lúcio what he needs.

.

_He plans on working this job for a month, two at most. _

_What he does is, stay. _

_At first it‘s because no new contracts are immediately available and the novelty of working like an honest person hasn‘t quite worn off yet- besides, he won‘t say no to the money. _

_Then, because he is coming to like his fellow bodyguards and leaving now would feel like he‘s abandoning his colleagues. _

_And then, of course, he is starting to grow fond of Lúcio. _

_He doesn‘t even mind the music anymore. _

_It is a gradual process, coming to trust his new boss, but once it‘s started, Hanzo can‘t bring himself to want to stop. Slowly, bit by bit, he ends up telling him the truth about himself. _

_Who he is. _

_What he did. _

_That last is hard, on both of them, but- he accepts it. All of it. Accepts _Hanzo_ and so gives him the greatest gift he has ever received, like it was nothing. _

_The thought of leaving becomes painful after that. _

_._

It is almost meditative. The world falls away, ceases to exist. There is only Lúcio. Screaming and writhing in his ropes whenever Hanzo‘s flat hand connects with his skin. Painfully hard, tears streaking his face. Soft whimpers that he would be ashamed of at any other time pouring from his throat any time Hanzo gives him a break, ceaselessly.

As they do now.

Hanzo has learned to recognize the signs, knows when it is enough, when he needs to stop or risk going too far. So he circles around Lúcio until they‘re face to face, wipes away some of the moisture on his cheeks, brushes a kiss across his forehead.

„Are you alright?“

There‘s no immediate answer, nor does he expect one. Not with the dazed, trance-like state Lúcio is in. Hanzo patiently waits for him, waits until his lids flutter and his forehead creases with the concentration it takes to formulate a simple reply.

„`m fine,“ he breathes, his exhale a soft puff of warmth across Hanzo‘s palm, followed by a press of lips.

„Do you want to stop?“

A frown, large brown eyes blinking open, like an owl in daylight, „No….“ Awareness gradually creeps back in- and purpose. „Go on.“

For a long second, Hanzo considers arguing. Wants to ask if he‘s sure. This is bordering on too much, but- he trusts Lúcio to know his limits, trusts him to pull the brakes when he needs to. So he nods.

„Alright.“

.

_Lúcio is a giver, he learns that early on. Sometimes too much so, going beyond reason or what his body and mind can take. All of his staff knows that. All of them worry about it. He just laughs it off, tells them he‘s young, he‘ll be ok. _

_He won‘t. _

_Hanzo knows intimately the feeling of giving everything you have, and knows there comes a moment when there is no more left to give. _

_It is not the big concerts that Hanzo learns to fear. Those leave Lúcio exhausted to the point where he will nod off in the shower, but that means at least he‘ll sleep. _

_Worse are the smaller gigs, more private, intimate affairs. It means that much closer contact with his fans, that much more emotion being projected onto one young man with a gift for music and an utter inability to let others' emotions bounce off him. _

_The overload means he‘s raw afterward. Open, vulnerable, and so charged with restless energy he cannot handle it. _

_He reminds Hanzo of Genji on one of his drug trips, only without the drugs. _

_It scares him. But nothing he says has any sort of impact. _

_Until… _

_._

_Hanzo stares at the picture in front of him, heart seizing in his chest. _

_No. Please. Gods, no. _

_The picture is- Lúcio on the bathroom floor, half-naked, pale, sweating. Leaning against the bathtub, a puddle of vomit between his legs- he must have meant to aim for the toilet and not gotten there in time. He‘s shaking, tears streaking his face, and Hanzo‘s mind immediately runs a list of drugs that could do that to him and the countermeasures to take. _

_Sometimes, being former head of a _yakuza_ clan does come in handy, a part of his mind remarks wrily. _

_He has no idea when Lúcio would have acquired drugs, however (he does know _how_\- only too well), as he hasn‘t been alone all evening. _

_Not for the first time, he curses that damn e-mail. A dying girl‘s last wish, how could Lúcio not fulfil it? Always giving, and look at him now. _

_Slowly, so as not to startle him, he kneels next to him, puts a hand on his cheek. Skin clammy, pupils mere pinpricks, pulse fluttering. Hanzo panicks, fumbles for his comm, but Lúcio grabs his hand, shakes his head no. _

_Hanzo just can‘t help exploding at that moment. _

„_Are you _fucking_ serious?! You need help, right now! What did you take?“ Even as he‘s yelling, he looks around for a packet, a syringe, anything. There‘s nothing, and he almost misses the hurt, indignant look crossing Lúcio‘s face. _

„_Stop… man, get a grip, you know I don‘t do drugs!“ His voice is weaker than it should be, raspy, but not slurred in the least, and there‘s a familiar spark of outrage in his eyes. He struggles into a more upright position, grimaces at the mess on the floor. „It‘s just… that gig… the girl….“ A sob breaks free, accompanied by fresh tears. _

_Hanzo‘s hand falls away from the comm. _

„_You swear you didn‘t take anything?“ He probably sounds just as rough as the younger man; he can neither tell nor care right now. _

„_Know where that ends. Promised myself I‘d never touch the stuff,“ Lúcio mumbles with his head on his knees. _

_Slowly, slowly, Hanzo exhales. For a moment, they stay like this before it occurs to him that it would probably be a good idea to at least get Lúcio up off the floor and he acts accordingly. _

_He might be a bit too rough when he hauls him upright and over to the sink to rinse his mouth and wash his face, but Lúcio doesn‘t complain. _

_In fact, it is only when a still-not-quite-warm-enough hand comes to rest on his and gently pries his fingers apart that he realizes his nails are digging into his palm hard enough to draw blood. _

_._

_It is only a matter of time after that. _

_And when it happens it‘s quite unspectacular. _

_Just: Hanzo knocking on Lúcio‘s hotel room door to check in on him after taking over the night shift. A soft „Come in,“ from the other side. He enters, Lúcio getting up from the couch to meet him. A look exchanged and a shared understanding. _

_Lúcio reaches around Hanzo to close the door and lock it and doesn‘t move away again. _

_._

A few minutes is all it takes for Lúcio to be squirming in the ropes, hips jerking in abortive little movements. Harsh pants and half-sobs fill the air, interspersed with increasingly incoherent pleading.

_More, please, Hanzo, I‘m gonna…._

Hanzo lets his hand rest on Lúcio‘s back, gives him a second to breathe, and slaps him again with all the force he can muster and Lúcio jerks, arches- another and he‘s folding up with a harsh cry and Hanzo rushes to catch him round the middle when his knees buckle, wraps an arm around his waist and a hand around his cock and guides him through his orgasm, soft pulls and gentle twists of his wrist until Lúcio goes still but for the shuddering of his overtaxed muscles. Then he reaches up to untie him, two tugs and the knots come loose and they sink slowly to the carpeted floor where Hanzo gathers the utterly spent musician against him, holds him while he sinks back into his own body.

An uncounted amount of time ticks by. The world outside sends out feelers to announce that it is, indeed, still there, in the form of the city lights entering through gaps in the curtains and painting the ceiling in bright neons. Hanzo ignores them in favor of drinking in his lover, his smell, his warmth, the deep, even breaths tickling his collarbone. When his position on the floor becomes too uncomfortable, he carefully relocates Lúcio to the bed, disposes of the used condom and cleans him up and then prepares to leave, and, as usual, doesn‘t get far.

Brown eyes crack open as soon as he‘s made that decision and tether him in place where he‘s sitting on the edge of the bed, Lúcio stretching under him with a slow smile of utter contentedness that even the wince and hiss he gives when his no doubt considerable soreness makes itself felt cannot dampen. Hanzo‘s own hitherto-ignored erection had been starting to flag… right up until that moment. Which Lúcio is all too aware of, of course.

„Where do you think you‘re going, hm? Haven‘t even thanked you yet,“ he murmurs, voice low and rough from the abuse his vocal chords have been put through during the past hour. A hand in Hanzo‘s collar hauls him up his body while the other gropes him through his uniform. An appreciative hum- the smile gets even wider.

Hanzo‘s not even sure why he bothers anymore- it‘s never stopped him before, after all- but he still feels the need to point out, „You don‘t have to do this….“

Lúcio just snorts, like he always does. His hand is already down Hanzo‘s trousers and drawing him out, „Like I don‘t just love getting my hands on this...“, and he gives a slow pump just for emphasis, „Like I don‘t love getting you to come all over me….“, tongue darting out to lick his lips, voice dropping to a whisper-- just like that, Hanzo is reduced to helplessness. Their kiss starts sloppy and gets ever messier at the rate that coordination flees him, until he has to break it off and tuck his face into the crook of Lùcio‘s neck and like this, with Lúcio‘s fingers in his hair and in less than a dozen strokes, he does come, shuddering, all over him.

The next thing he sees, when he regains his wits and the ability to open his eyes, is Lúcio lying half on his side next to him, an arm under his head, licking his hand clean with manifest enjoyment. The smile on his face is of the cat-in-cream variety, or would be if not for the way his lids are trying to fall shut. He is crashing fast, now. Hanzo is surprised he even managed to stay awake this long.

He pushes up on an elbow preparatory to getting up, reaches out in the same motion to brush a thumb across Lúcio‘s cheek.

Brown eyes slip shut and don‘t open again.

„You should sleep.“

„Mhhh….“ It‘s a sound somewhere between a hum and a grumble. „You should stay….“

„And you know I can‘t do that.“ Hanzo gathers his legs under him as he sits up and swings them out of bed. He needs to get cleaned up and back to his post. There are still a few hours until morning, luckily.

He‘d rather avoid his coworkers finding out he‘s sleeping with their boss, if possible.

„I‘m so tired of keeping this secret….“ Soft as it is, the whisper plunges a knife between his ribs. Because he is, too… and because it can never be any other way.

„You would make yourself a target.“ How often have they talked this through? Yet Lúcio keeps coming back to it. It‘s grating on Hanzo‘s nerves and makes him curt and sharp, far more than he wants to be.

„Already am.“ Lúcio sounds like he‘s falling asleep while saying these words. A look confirms that he is, indeed, to Hanzo‘s twofold relief. Because he needs it, and because Hanzo does not wish to revisit this particular argument. Again.

Quietly, he makes his way to the bathroom to make himself presentable again. Cleans up Lúcio for the second time, who only mumbles in his sleep and shifts a little and sleeps on, and lingers far too long tracing patterns on his shoulder with a thumb.

Tomorrow always does come too soon.

.

_They‘ve slept with each other perhaps half a dozen times when Lùcio asks Hanzo to tie him up for the first time. After that, it becomes their refuge. _


End file.
